The Thing About Death
by bluejanes
Summary: The thing about death is that it's never easy. And death takes on a whole new meaning when your father is Hades. SI/OC as Bianca di Angelo's twin.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own PJO.**

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The thing about death is that it's never easy.

The afterlife was definitely nothing like what I had expected. It was crowded and confusing. And honestly, I was still so disoriented from my death that I was still struggling with the idea that I was in the _afterlife._

The afterlife. I was dead.

I'd been alive only minutes ago, and now I was dead.

It was the weirdest feeling in the world; knowing that I was dead but not actually _knowing_ it.

Someone on my left shoved me roughly as he—she? Ghosts didn't really have color to them, and their faces and bodies were so blurry I couldn't really tell their genders—and stood up suddenly.

"Hey! Watch it!" I snapped, finding myself being pushed into the crowd of people on my right. I was completely ignored.

Glaring and swearing vengeance under my breath, I tried not to get swept up by the sudden movement of the people around me, as they all surged to the front.

"What the fuck?" I muttered, both puzzled and annoyed as I kept getting thrown further and further to the back as everyone else herded like a stampede and crowded near the bank of the river. I couldn't see what was going on, and I was too short to see over the heads of the people in front of me.

Voices exploded into a cacophony of sounds as people clamored for someone at the river that I couldn't see. It was so noisy that I couldn't even discern the words they were screaming, and it was just a jumble of shrieks and shouts that fought their way over each other; getting louder and louder as each voice struggled to be louder than the last.

 _This is so stupid_. I thought to myself, irritated that I had no idea what was going on and that I had nearly been trampled on a mere ten seconds ago.

"SHUT UP!" A voice roared over the ruckus, effectively silencing all the shouts. I sighed with relief at the blissful silence.

"Finally." It was a deep, nearly monotone voice. "You mortal ingrates never know how to behave in an orderly fashion. I suppose I'll have to do my job now."

Viciously shoving and elbowing my way to the front, I finally burst out at the front of the crowd, only to see an old guy wearing a really expensive looking suit. There was a rather long, thin boat floating on the river, and the guy held the oar, standing on the edge of the boat and was facing us.

"Now," He was saying in a bland tone, "I want the ones with the most money to come up front."

Um. What. Where the hell was I supposed to get money? And what did he even want money for anyway? Was this some kind of scam? I was still pretty sure I was dead.

"Why?" I asked, raising my voice so the weird guy would hear me.

He gave me a long, mildly annoyed look that showed just how insufferable he thought I was. It was akin to the look people usually gave to flies. "Why what?"

"Why do we have to give you money?"

Rolling his eyes, he looked towards the ceiling—sky—whatever was above us—and sighed heavily. "You _do_ want to find a place for your soul to rest, don't you?" He left out the word "dimwit" but it was implied.

A surge of anger rose in me. "How the hell was I supposed to know that? I just got here."

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry." The weird guy said sarcastically. "Now if you don't have money, get out of the way. I only give a ride to those who can pay me."

What a money-grubbing fucker. I flipped him off and sulked as a bunch of people rushed to the weird guy and gave him their credit card numbers.

A soft voice sounded at my elbow and I jumped, surprised. "Hey. You're new here, right?" I looked down to see a kid who looked to be about six or seven.

"Uh, yeah." I stuttered, a bit taken aback that there was a child here. "That's right."

The little boy laughed. "It's okay, I had no idea what was going on at first either. But this nice old lady told me about it right before she left."

I frowned. "Left where?"

"The Judgement Pavilion." At my uncomprehending look, the little boy continued. "The guy on the boat is Charon. He takes us over the River Styx so our souls can be judged. We'll either get placed in the Fields of Punishment, the Fields of Asphodel, or Elysium."

I blinked slowly. "Okaaaay. I still have no idea what you're saying, but keep going."

"We're not really in the afterlife yet. This is kind of like a waiting room." The boy's voice dropped and I practically see him wilt. "Some people have been here for centuries."

"Jesus." I said, raising my eyebrows. "That sucks."

The boy nodded in agreement. "That's why everyone's trying to get on the boat."

Yeah, there was no way I was going to get stuck in some kind of waiting room for a few centuries. I would be bored out of my mind, and my personality was too high-strung for a couple hundred years of waiting. This was even worse than airport security and the waiting room at the doctor's office.

"So we just have to give him money?" I asked the boy, my hand automatically going to my pocket, before I could remember that I was dead and probably didn't even have a wallet.

Shockingly, my fingers brushed against the familiar leather of my wallet as the boy nodded. I pulled it out and stared at it, not quite believing and understanding how my wallet had gone with me to the waiting room of the afterlife.

Maybe my phone would still be here too. My hand went for my other pocket and I couldn't help a small exhale as I felt cool metal.

Now reassured by the fact that I'd apparently carried my stuff over with me to the afterlife, I opened the wallet, and sagged with relief when I saw that all my money was still there.

"Hey, kid." I gestured at him with my wallet. "Thanks for the info. I'll see if I can get us both on the boat."

"Really?" The kid lit up like a latern, and I couldn't help but smile at his excitement. I briefly wondered how long he'd been waiting here and strode up to the weird guy, Charon.

The boat was nearly filled, and there was a big mass of people on the side that had been rejected because of their lack of payment.

I tried not to wince at all the people who were being left behind because—believe me, when I say there was a lot of people, I mean there was _a lot_.

"Got room for two more?" I waved my wallet at Charon and he squinted at me. "How old are you, kid?" I scowled and answered. "Seventeen." He nodded. "Got a credit card?" Wordlessly, I pulled it out and handed it to him.

The card kind of just…dissolved in his hands, and he stepped aside to let me and the little boy on the boat.

We took up the last two seats.

(I tried not to look back at the people left on the shore as the boat drifted away. One woman was screaming and crying.)

The boat was heavy with silence, and the echoes of the people's cries still haunted the air. "That's pretty unfair, don't you think?" I addressed Charon with my question.

He spared me a brief glance and went back to his rowing.

The lack of a response didn't discourage me in the slightest, and I kept talking. "I mean, look at all those people that you left behind. How long have some of them been waiting? The whole system's pretty messed up. What if someone didn't have their wallet with them when they died? Why do you want all this money anyway?"

There was a pause as I stopped to take a breath. No one was paying attention except for the little boy, and he gripped my hand tightly.

"Why are you still talking to me." Charon said dully, not really caring about anything I'd just said.

I could feel my temper rising again at his dismissive attitude. "Oi, you asshole! This whole thing is messed up and I wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to drown you in the river someday!"

Charon turned and raised an eyebrow. "Are you really complaining when you got on the boat without having to wait at all? I only take passengers every few years, you know. So I wouldn't be saying anything if I were you."

The little boy's grip on my hand tightened and it was the only thing that stopped me from standing up and socking the jerkwad in the face.

I huffed furiously, biting my tongue to hold back all the swear words that were just begging to be spoken.

"What's an asshole?" The little boy asked me quietly. The question was so naïve, so innocent, that I burst out into laughter, all the anger and tension melting away from my body. We were all _dead,_ for fuck's sake, and that was seriously one of the last things I'd expected to hear as a dead person.

Laughter poured out of me, and I laughed and laughed until my sides hurt. Everyone was giving me strange looks, but I didn't care.

I was _dead._ I was only seventeen and I was dead.

I didn't want to be dead. But I was dead, and I was _dead_.

My laughter subsided into half broken dry sobs, and I had no tears to cry. I was—I didn't know.

I was never going to feel the sun against my face again, never smell the mouthwatering scent of fresh baked bread, never play League of Legends, never talk with my friends—the list was endless, and I was stuck in the afterlife for the rest of my soul's existence.

I turned to the little boy. "It's nothing, kid, it doesn't mean anything."

He cocked his head and stared at me, looking somehow too old and too solemn for a child. "Okay." It was a look that spoke a story, telling me of the long, lonely years he'd spent waiting for the boat to come.

The rest of the ride was silent, and I stared over the edge of the boat at the depthless, pitch black waters of the river.

I'd never seen a river with black water before, but apparently it existed. (In the afterlife, of course.)

Everything was still and achingly empty, as if we were leaving everything that made life _life_ behind as we crossed the river. There was nothing but the feeling of the little boy's hand wrapped around mine, small and fragile, but strong.

I gripped his hand as tightly as he gripped mine, and we stared out into the Unknown.

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 **A/N: I was looking through viria's pjo tags on tumblr, and I saw an alive!Bianca drawing, and the feels hit me like a train. And then I decided I wanted to write about the di Angelo siblings, so this fic was born.**

 **(Kudos to anyone who can guess the reference I put in the last line!)**

 **Anyway, yes, this is** _ **another**_ **SI/OC fic that I'm shamelessly writing. I am by no means a great writer, but I just like writing these, so I'm writing them. (I'm not that well-acquainted with PJO, since it's been a while since I've read the series, and I usually stick to the HP fandom, so please let me know if there are any inaccuracies. I also apologize for any inaccuracies in advance. Honestly, everything I'm using is from the PJO wiki.)**

 **And sorry if I've offended anyone with my kind of frequent usage of "God" and "Jesus". Those are expressions I hear a lot in my daily life, so it just got incorporated into my writing. I'm not trying to be offensive or anything.**

 **Anyway, thank you for reading and please let me know if you have any comments or suggestions!**


	2. Chapter 2

The boat came to a stop as it hit the shore, jolting a bit at the impact.

"Everyone out." Charon hurriedly swept us out of his boat, and we all carefully climbed out, some old, primal instinct telling us not to accidently fall in the water, or there would be consequences.

As I exited the boat, I couldn't help but make one last spiteful jab at Charon. "I hope your stupid suit gets ruined by the river water."

Charon flashed me a nasty glare and I smirked, pulling the little boy along with me.

We all lined up, single file, and began a long march on the winding path that led to God knows where.

I chatted with the little boy as we went, not only trying to pass the time but was also genuinely interested in his past.

"So, what's your name? I'm Kate."

Giving me a small, shy smile, the boy answered a bit bashfully. "I'm Sebastian. I'm six." He made the symbol for six with the hand that wasn't holding mine, his thumb and pinky sticking out.

I grinned. "Six? Wow, you're such a big boy!" I ruffled his hair (a bit affectionately, though I'd never admit it).

Sebastian flushed proudly. "I can take care of myself. That's what my mommy said."

"That's great, buddy." I was an only child, so interacting with children was a bit alien to me, but Sebastian was such a sweet kid that I never felt annoyed by him, as I often did with other children.

"How did you die?" He asked curiously, his eyes filled with the desire to know more; something that grew strong in children but faded by the time they became teenagers.

There was a flash of a large piece of concrete falling onto my body, its shadow eclipsing my body completely as it came closer and closer, the inevitable feeling of being crushed falling with it; my body tensing and anticipating—

I inhaled sharply, shaking all memories away. "Well, there was an earthquake, and a big rock fell on me." As I said it out loud, I couldn't help but feel silly. "It's a bit embarrassing, isn't it?"

"Not at all!" Sebastian blinked up at me earnestly, "That sounds terrible."

"Thanks, kiddo." My face softened and I gave him a warm smile. "What about you?"

His brows furrowed as he tried to think. "They were monsters."

Monsters? That sounded as plausible as a unicorn stabbing me. But I decided to indulge him, remembering that he was only a kid. "Really? What kind of monsters?"

"I don't know. They were really big. And had one eye. It was really scary." Sebastian shivered and huddled into himself.

I leaned down and placed a comforting arm around his shoulder. "It's okay." I murmured, "Those monsters aren't here anymore. Besides, I'll protect you."

Sebastian looked up at me with owlish eyes. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Pinky promise." I held out my pinky to him and he wrapped his around it.

"You know," He said, "I think you're my sister. My mommy says I have a lot of siblings, just with different mommies."

Wow. His dad must have been one promiscuous fucker—literally and figuratively—to have so many kids that even the women knew about it.

I knew for a fact that I was an only child with a dad that left me to my own devices, so I was definitely not his sister. But hey, who was I to deny the kid?

"Yeah, I think so too." I smiled at him, and he gave me a blinding grin in return; sweeter than candy and brighter than the sun.

I was about to say something when the person in front of us suddenly stopped walking, and I stumbled into him/her, cursing loudly as I rubbed my sore nose.

And then promptly stopped short at the sight of the entrance.

"Oh dear lord Jesus." I breathed, staring at the dog.

It was a large, slobbering dog. With three heads.

"Um, someone want to explain exactly what that is?" I asked no one in particular.

"That's Cerberus." Sebastian piped up, "He guards the Underworld. The old lady told me about him."

Hm. So I was in the Underworld. With a huge ass dog guarding the entrance.

"Oh, God. Do we have to get through him?" I swallowed heavily and tried not to feel nauseous as I looked at the dog's giant, sharp teeth that looked like it could tear me in half with one bite.

Okay, you know what? Fuck this. I'd come too far to let a dog stop me.

I let go of Sebastian's hand and stomped forward, looking Cerberus straight in the eye. "You gonna let us in or what?" I demanded, matching its glower eye for eye. My heart was beating rapidly and so loudly that Cerberus could probably hear it, but I didn't care. I had to be strong if I was going to get through the shit that life—and apparently the afterlife—was throwing at me.

My bluff somehow worked, because Cerberus just sniffed haughtily at me—could dogs even do that?—and lowered his head, indicating that we could pass.

At my side, Sebastian let out a tiny laugh. "You know Cerberus doesn't attack any of the dead, right?"

I stared. "Goddamn it."

We walked through the gates and were met with a large pavilion, where I assumed we'd be judged. I would be lying if I wasn't nervous. Honestly, I was kind of scared. What if they decided to send me to hell for killing that spider in third grade? Or accidentally stepping on an ant hill in fifth grade? I really didn't need punishment for that—the ant bites had been more than enough.

I gulped and waited for the people in front of me to be judged. The first few people were sent through the Fields of Asphodel, but the guy right after that was sent to the Fields of Punishment.

That did not sound or look pleasant. I was pretty sure I just saw a naked guy on fire running away from creepy dogs (what was it with this place and scary dogs?) pass by.

Panic thumped with each heartbeat and I could feel my palms getting sweaty as the line got shorter and shorter. So far, no one had been sorted into Elysium.

What if I got sent to the Fields of Punishment? I wasn't exactly the best person—I got into fights all the time, had done drugs for a while, and barely passed all my classes.

And I'd done other things; things I'd never told anyone about. Things that were secret, things I was too ashamed to admit I'd done.

My life was about to be spread open and picked at by complete strangers. Everything I'd done and said would become known to others. I was scared, plain and simple.

I'd brought home a stray cat once. Maybe that'd cancel out my bad deeds?

…I could hope, right?

I probably didn't have enough good deeds to cancel out my bad ones.

"Sebastian Williams." A guy with a powdered wig called, and I flashed Sebastian a thumbs up as he clambered onto the pavilion to face the judges.

They all stared at him for a bit before talking.

"Let's just send him to Asphodel." One guy said, who looked Greek and distinctly pretentious in a very grating way.

"Shut up, Minos!" Said the guy with the powdered wig. "He's just a child. I say Elysium. He died a hero's death anyway."

The third guy nodded solemnly. "This is the short and the long of it." He sounded vaguely poetic and when Minos called him "Shakespeare" and told him that he was a crazy drunkard that had no idea what he was talking about, it made a lot more sense.

"I vote Elysium." Stated the powdered wig guy firmly, "The boy deserves a good afterlife and he will have all the freedom he can get there."

"You're a weak-hearted fool, Jefferson. It's Asphodel for sure." Snapped Minos, "And maybe even better would be the Fields of Punishment."

"No one wants to hear your opinion, Minos." Glared Jefferson. (Thomas Jefferson? My head was exploding here.)

"To thine own self be true. Elysium it is." Shakespeare waved his hand and Sebastian started to float towards Elysium.

I stared after him and Sebastian looked back, giving me a wave and an encouraging smile before turning and facing his new home.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward. It was finally my turn. Would I be condemned or would I be taken to Asphodel?

"Kate Platten." They all stared at me, and I knew that they were seeing my whole life unravel before their eyes. I shifted uncomfortably before forcing myself to stand still and push away my fear.

"So. A troublemaker, aren't you?" Minos peered at me. "I like Fields of Punishment for you."

My heart stopped in my chest and I tried to take deep, even breaths. I really, really didn't want to go there.

"Oh, don't listen to that simpleton." Jefferson told me, "You've done some bad things, but you're a good person at heart. It just isn't expressed that well. You know, you remind me of Hamilton. He was—"

"Here we go again." Groaned Minos, sinking down in his chair.

Jefferson flashed him a nasty glare before turning to me. "I'm thinking Asphodel." At my hopeful look, he added, "And there's always reincarnation."

"I—I'm not that good of a person though." My legs and arms trembled and I felt crushingly ashamed.

"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." Shakespeare said seriously, but I had a feeling he was just messing around with random lines from his plays because he was bored. But it still lifted a heavy weight off my shoulders.

"Willy's right." Jefferson nodded, "And don't forget what caused your death in the first place."

A barrage of memories flooded my mind and I winced.

The earth was shaking, everything around me vibrating and falling apart; trembling so violently that houses crumbled to the ground, cars flipping onto their sides.

Everything fell to pieces around me.

It was only seventeen seconds, but it was agonizingly long, like all earthquakes were.

I remembered the stinging of my knee as I lumbered onto my feet, the painful jolt that went through my arm as I pushed some of the wreckage off of me.

I remembered the piercing screaming of a young child.

I remembered lifting the rock as high as I could as he crawled out, only to collapse with exhaustion and look up just in time to see another piece falling on top of me.

And I remembered death.

"You saved him." Jefferson interrupted my flashback softly and waved a hand. "And so Elysium it is."

The strange sensation of wanting to cry yet not having the energy to cry swept through me, and as I floated away, Shakespeare winked at me. "They say a man can die but once. Perhaps it's not as true as they'd like to think."

All I could feel was confusion and I gave him a skeptical look as I passed by.

"Remember!" He called after me, "Nothing will come of nothing."

Why did everyone have to be so goddamn cryptic in the afterlife?

I approached the Fields of Asphodel, only to see that there were a few people leaving the fields. Curiosity got the better of me and I followed them, not wanting to start standing in a field for the rest of my existence yet.

They floated past a majority of the Underworld—or at least what I assumed to be a majority because it was taking a long time—even passing a huge marble palace that hauntingly beautiful.

Finally, they landed at the bank of a strange river. Its waters seemed deep and deceptively calm, and it just felt off. There was something wrong with it.

And my intuition proved true as a few of the souls stepped into the water and seemed to lose clarity of the world around them, their eyes become wide and unfocused as they floated out of the water and onto the bank on the opposite side before disappearing in a wisp of smoke.

It was all quite terrifying, but it seemed that there was more to explore on the other side of the bank.

But I felt like there was something pushing me along, telling me to go into the water. And that just made the whole situation a lot more shady, and I was _not_ about to follow that feeling.

Maybe if I didn't touch the water, I wouldn't disappear. After all, as Shakespeare said, nothing comes of nothing.

As soon as the person in front of me stepped into the water, I launched myself onto her shoulders and latched on in an awkward piggyback-like position.

"What the—" The woman tried to throw me off but the farther she got in the river, the less she struggled. Eventually, she was so unaware that she seemed to completely forget that she had someone riding on her shoulders.

I hopped off as soon as she reached the opposite side, just as she disappeared.

I let out a whoop of exhilaration at my victory, but before I could get too happy, I disappeared as well.

The course of death never did run smooth.

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 **A/N: So I know that a lot of this seems like a long stretch- (I mean, piggybacking over a river? That's just crazy.) but hey, suspension of disbelief, right? I couldn't come up with a better scenario, so here it is. Also, I'm going to factor in the fact that the Underworld's security and organization is shit, because after a few centuries, you're gonna get tired of the same old thing. Hades isn't exactly doing his job every time he runs off to see Maria di Angelo.**

 **(I have no idea how Jefferson and Shakespeare spoke, and I'm one hundred percent sure it was not the way I portrayed them in this fic as, because that was more for comic relief than anything. Also, Minos is a jerk. I don't know how he didn't lose his job yet. And Charon. But Charon is kinda a lovable asshole. Sometimes.)**

 **Anyway, I'm not sure how this will go yet but I have a lot of love for the di Angelos so that's pretty much why I'm writing this.**

 **Thanks for reading and let me know if you have any comments or suggestions!**


	3. Chapter 3

The first thought I had coming out of a random lady's womb was, _What in the seven hells is going on?—ohmygod is that—is that? AMICOMINGOUTOFAUTERUS WHATTHEFUCK._

It was a gross, traumatic experience that I neither want to expand on or repeat again.

In any case, I was a baby, and apparently a twin now.

(There was another baby lying right next to me, neither crying nor screaming. Just staring.

Just like me.

Except, I would find out later, not really. She wasn't like me at all.)

The woman who had birthed us was alone. It was a dark house, with shadows lingering around every corner, and we had no one but each other in that somber, unsettling house.

She was kind, and cooed to us in a husky, mellow voice that reminded me of lost dreams and skies full of stars too far away to light up the night. She was beautiful.

In my previous life, it had just been my father and me. Now, I had a mother and a twin sister. I didn't know how to feel about this, because, what the hell—I had a _mother_ and a _sister_.

It was already confusing enough being reincarnated, and now I had to adjust to having a new family and a new family.

At first, I was an unpleasant baby, always acting out however I could, and screamed and cried whenever I wanted to—which was often. I hadn't wanted to be reborn; I hadn't wanted any of this.

But I realized—I hadn't wanted to be dead either. In a way, my impulsive curiosity had turned this into a blessing than more of a curse. Being alive was much better than being dead, and I had a whole new appreciation for life now that I had experienced death once.

For one thing, the world of the living was a lot more vibrant, filled with sounds and colors and tastes and smells and I could actually _feel_. And so that settled that. I was going to live, and I was going to make the best of it.

Living wasn't hard, besides the obvious limitations of being a teenager stuck in a baby's body, and I actually liked having a mom that cared about me. I was still iffy about having a sister—Bianca, as I later learned— but I hoped I would get used to it.

In all honesty, it wasn't difficult to become adjusted to this new life. I literally just ate, shit, cried, and slept all the time. And having a family was something I'd always yearned for in my previous life. To have people that I could always rely on, that loved me and cared about me; people I could form bonds with and go through life knowing that they'd always be there for me. It was a fairy tale like view of family, I know, but it was something I wanted. And now I was getting it.

* * *

My mother's name was Maria, and I had assumed that she was a widow until a man calling himself my father came to visit.

It hadn't been hard to figure out who he was—even though Maria spoke a language different from English, the clues were all there.

He was a tall, elegant man (just like Maria) and wore the most expensive clothes I'd ever seen. I'm pretty sure his whole suit was made of silk.

As he stepped closer, I could see shadows melting off of him, and he had a haggard, gloomy look to him that was extremely disconcerting. I could see death in his eyes.

He leaned towards the crib, and I caught a whiff of a rich, flowery perfume that was mixed with an ancient, earthy scent that somehow seemed fresh and old, all at once. His eyes were an ominous black, the black of the abyss, and his hair as dark as night. Honestly, he was just all death and darkness.

Reaching with a hesitant hand, he brushed Bianca's cheek in an achingly tender gesture. His hand was trembling. Maria stepped next to him and took a hold of his other hand, their fingers intertwining in a loose, loving hold that echoed a subtle comfort on Maria's part.

" _Bianca, Francesca, questo è tuo papà_." She whispered and her eyes glittered with warmth. The man let out a shaky exhale and took Bianca and my hands in his, and ours were dwarfed by his. " _Sì_." He breathed, almost reverently, " _Io sono tuo papà_."

Bianca giggled softly, and I removed my hand from the man's grip, choosing to burrow closer to Bianca. It was awkward, having this man all of a sudden introduce himself as our father. Where had he been? Why did he only choose to come now?

Hurt flashed on the man's face and he looked to Maria, unsure of what to do. She placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled gently. " _Va bene, non sono abituati a te. Dai tempo a loro._ "

The man's furrowed brows relaxed and he leaned into Maria's touch, and he no longer seemed like a frightening force of darkness, but rather a simple man who loved Maria and his children. The air around us seemed a hundred times lighter, and the harsh angles of the man's face were softened by the quirk of his lips.

It was like watching the sunrise—swirls of pastel pinks and blues and oranges slowly illuminating the sky as the sun warmed the chills of the night and rose to wake the world.

Very grudgingly, I decided to give the man a chance. Next to me, Bianca waved her fists in the air and cooed contently, drool bubbling from her lips as she gurgled pure joy. It was kind of gross, but it was kind of cute. I smiled.

Later that night, when Maria and Bianca were asleep, the man took me out of the crib I shared with Bianca and held me in his arms. "So. You're the little runaway soul I heard about."

At that moment, my heart seemed to stop in my chest, and it became a lot harder to breathe. _How did he know?_ My mind raced with questions and frantic thoughts, and fear surged through my veins. _How?_

The man must have noticed, because he placed a soothing hand on my forehead, his skin cool and smooth, and spoke gently. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. Usually, before reincarnation, souls must go through the river Lethe. You, however, did not, and thus retain your memories from your previous life. But this doesn't change the fact that you're my daughter, and I will treat you as such. Your soul is the same; the only difference is that you still remember your past life. I won't bring you to the Underworld and erase your memories, so relax. It's too late for that, so just take care of your mother and sister as best you can when I'm not here, okay?"

My eyes were wide as I listened, and I nodded solemnly. But who was this man? How did he know that I was reincarnated? Questions screamed in my mind and the man smiled enigmatically. "I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and you are my daughter."

I blinked. And then processed the words. I wanted to scream, "What?!", but all that came out of my mouth was a strangled gurgle, as my vocal cords hadn't yet developed for speech.

Hades' eyes crinkled and he placed my back in my crib, kissing Bianca's and my foreheads before leaving.

His lips left a tingle of power against my skin, and I thought I saw something deeper than death his steps; something wild and strong, all the matter of the universe combined into one. It was not only death, and it was possibly love, and it was a lot more than that.

So _this_ was a god.

* * *

As I grew older, I found myself wishing that Hades had at least given me the ability to speak and understand Italian. I mean, if he was a god, why couldn't have given me this one little thing? My lack of ability to speak Italian had given me hell. But I powered through it, and with a lot of picture books and constant care from Maria, I was able to get a basic grasp on the language.

Bianca and I were learning how to walk now, and I was glad that Bianca was the opposite of me in terms of temperament and personality.

I was easily pissed off, and because Bianca had been a baby, I'd found her annoying. Every time she cried, it kept me up when I wanted to sleep, and her diapers didn't exactly smell like flowers. But she kept the crying and the screaming to a minimum, and it helped me find her more adorable and sweet.

Since I'd been an only child, I wasn't used to sharing. And in the beginning, I didn't want to share Maria either. But Maria made sure to divide her time between us evenly and always made me share everything with Bianca. I hated it, but when Bianca reciprocated, it made me feel happy and loved. So I tolerated the sharing.

And then I realized that I really, really loved my family. I'd finally realized it when Maria had taken Bianca and me in our stroller for a walk through the nearby park.

Maria was a full time stay at home mom, and devoted all of her time to taking care of us. I figured that her being the lover of a god guaranteed a steady income. Because of that, she didn't go out very often and wasn't really friends with any of the neighborhood moms.

Single mothers with two children weren't exactly respected. (From the lack of televisions, cell phones, and computers, I was guessing that this wasn't modern times. Women with children out of wedlock were really looked down upon during this time period.)

I think Maria was really lonely, and probably unhappy at times, but she never showed it in front of us, and I really respected her for that. Maria was a strong woman, and she knew her own worth.

But we'd gone out to the park that day, and as Maria sat down to rest on a bench, I heard a few women near us whispering and staring.

My Italian was still pretty basic, but I got the general gist of what they were saying, and I learned how to say "whore" in Italian that day.

Maria's face turned stony cold, but her hands trembled slightly and I could see a hint of shame in her eyes.

And I was angry. Because she shouldn't have had to feel shame for loving her children. She shouldn't have had to endure the verbal assault. She was wonderful and amazing, and she didn't deserve any of that.

It was at that moment, when fury roared through me and made the ground tremble, that I knew that my family was _mine_ , and I loved them, and _no one_ was allowed to hurt them.

I started screaming at the top of my lungs, waving my arms and legs; my face turning red from the effort, and the ground shook beneath my feet. I was a conqueror; a king of Rome with armies behind me, with power surging below me and the shadows of day and night in my grasp.

The women scattered like ants and I smirked with a cruel sort of triumph. My family was _mine_ , and I was more than enough protection for them.

(It was hard to feel small when I had that much power.)

And then it stopped.

In the course of a second, I went from a queen of the shadows to a one year old crying in a stroller.

Maria came and held me in her arms, murmuring sweet words as she calmed me down. "My beautiful Francesca." She dipped her head and kissed my cheeks, "So strong and brave. Thank you."

I grinned unabashedly at her, glowing from the praise, and Bianca stared at me with wide eyes.

"Fran!" Bianca cheered, and she reached for Maria, who picked her up and held the both of us tightly, and I could see a bold, brilliant smile on Maria's face.

In the end, I found that I was unable to replicate what I'd done in the park, no matter how much I tried, but I was starting to really understand that my father was a _god_ , and I had some of that in me.

(I watched the shadows curl around Bianca as we played; heard the whispers of the night sing us to sleep.)

* * *

 **A/N: And so it's painfully apparent that I don't know how to speak/write Italian and used Google translate for this. I'm sure the translations are all off, but here was what I was trying to say.**

 **THANKS SO MUCH TO** **Ketsueko FOR TRANSLATION HELP!**

 _ **Bianca, Francesca, questo è tuo papà**_ **= Bianca, Francesca, this is your father**

 _ **Sì**_ **.** _ **Io sono tuo papà =**_ **Yes. I am your father.**

 ** _Va bene, non sono abituati a te. Dai tempo a loro_** **= It's fine, they're not used to you. Give them time**

 **(This all sounds incredibly cheesy in retrospect. ;-;)**

 **Anyway, I spent less time going through the psychological repercussions of forcing to grow from a baby with the mentality of a teenager, and focused more on family interactions. Because yes, this is shamelessly indulgent with the main focus on the di Angelos. Sorry (maybe not sorry). This isn't really one of my serious fics (probably) so I'm throwing in all the fluff I want. Woot.**

 **Just as clarification—Francesca (as Kate is now called) has a lot more anger and angst in her right now, as she was thrown into a whole different life with things she can't understand around her. She's in a totally different time period, a different country, and is now coming to understand her powers. But now that she's coming to an understanding, it'll be less angst and more fluff and happiness and joy. (Especially with Nico on the way.)**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading and let me know if you have questions or comments!**


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